


Orichalcum

by 17734



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Aphrodisiacs, Bickering, Desk Sex, F/M, Paperwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17734/pseuds/17734
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What?” he asked incredulously. “You’re blaming me? Again? Oh, there’s a plan every blood mage could agree with! Trick Knight Commander Meredith into drinking a magical aphrodisiac! That will bring change to Thedas!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orichalcum

It had been a positively horrible day in the First Enchanter’s office.

Three mage apprentices had managed to blow up a section of the library, setting themselves as well as twenty or thirty important tomes on fire. While Orsino had been filing reports on their recovery as well as accumulating the finances for repairs, the Templars had stormed in raving about contraband and depositing a number of impermissible items on his desk. Several hours later, the Chantry had sent over thick stacks of paperwork for Orsino to fill out. Miserably buried in reports and records, the First Enchanter had listened as across the hall, Knight Commander Meredith shouted and snarled at one of her knights.

He was of two minds about that- in part, he craved for silence. In another part, he got a vindictive pleasure out of knowing her day was going just as badly as his.

 At nine p.m., Orsino had finished a third of his work. The candles were burning low, sweating hot droplets of wax and hissing softly. The scratch of his quill against the page had become monotonous and his long fingers were cramped from too much writing. He uncurled them from around the feather’s stem, using a simple healing spell to alleviate the pain. He blinked a few times, looking back down at the report he was composing and trying to focus on the words. He hadn’t eaten dinner, his stomach reminded him with a clench of hunger.

“Tell me you have some wine,” Meredith said, entering his office without bothering to knock and fixing him with a cold stare. Her domineering attitude was in full swing, her stance aggressive as she crossed her arms beneath her breast plate, her lips twisting with distaste. He could see little imperfections in her façade however- dark circles under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights, strands of golden hair spilling across her forehead. There was tautness in her voice as well as weariness.

He raised an eyebrow. “What? There isn’t any wine in _your_ office?” he asked curtly before glancing back down at his report. If he pretended that the tedious piece of paper was more interesting than she was, perhaps she would get angry and stay longer to snip at him. Maker knew he needed a distraction, even if the woman in question was sheathed in metal and cheerful as a wet cat.

“Obviously not,” Meredith answered impatiently.

“Well, what happened to it?” Orsino persisted, resisting the wicked urge to smile. After hours of cataloging damages and ordering books, rankling the Knight Commander was premium entertainment. “Did a host of demons carry it off?”                

“I _drank_ it, Orsino,” she growled out, stalking forward to place her hands on his desk, “five hours ago when I got back from killing abominations in Dark Town and started my paperwork. Now it’s all gone. Do you have any or not?”                

He sighed, running his fingers back through his hair and setting down the quill. He glanced around his trashed office, eyeing the haphazard piles of paperwork and partially burned books. He caught sight of a bottle, wedged in between a wooden crateful of knickknacks and several magical dictionaries.

“There,” he said, pointing and turning back to his report.

“Thank the Maker,” Meredith praised, allotting the fortuitous turn of events to divine intervention rather than credit the mage. She picked her way through the debris and extracted the bottle, plucking out the cork with practiced fingers. She tossed the seal carelessly into the crate and sank down in one of Orsino’s armchairs. The bottle was already to her lips as she crossed one leg over the other, her white throat pulsing slightly as she swallowed a desperate gulp.

Orsino watched her for a moment. He was slightly surprised that she hadn‘t immediately left the room with her spoils; either she wanted something or she was fleeing her office as desperately as he wanted to flee his. “Long day?” he asked casually though the words were somewhat stilted. They weren’t friends, as far as charming understatements went. He could not remember the last conversation between them that hadn’t ended in either vicious insults or shouting.

“Ugh,” she grimaced, her voice brimming with irritation. “When none of my knights can control Holy Smite well enough to hit a mage down a mineshaft, I know I need to increase training hours. I wouldn’t have had to go myself but Cullen’s busy investigating those missing recruits.” She took another drink of the wine. “This is horrible, by the way,” she said, peering at the bottle. “It tastes of lye.”

Orsino waved it off with one hand. “Maybe it wasn’t stored properly,” he supplied.

“So long as I get the alcohol, I scarcely care,” she muttered, drinking again. “Burned books?”

“Burned books,” he affirmed, “and the Chantry. Mostly the Chantry, really.”

“We must not shirk away from our duty to the Maker,” Meredith preached but he caught the slightly mocking lilt of her voice, the glint of mirth in her blue eyes. “It is holy paperwork, Orsino.”

“If you lend me one of your knives to stab it with,” the First Enchanter quantified with aggravation, “ _then_ it will be holey.”

“I doubt the Grand Cleric wants a report that look like old cheese,” she commented dryly. “If you’re inclined to stab papers that have already been ruined with your messy handwriting, that is your affair. Use someone else’s knife.”

“Come now, Meredith,” he argued grandly, ignoring the critique of his penmanship. “You must want to rebel every once in a while. It doesn’t bother you that the Chantry holds the Order’s leash?”

“Power _should_ be leashed, mage,” she replied. “This crown on my head doesn’t make me Queen of the Gallows.” She shifted uncomfortably, passing a hand over her eyes. “Rebelling is your specialty, I’m sure.”

“And you know nothing about the lyrium smugglers, of course,” he scoffed, eyeing her. Were her cheeks slightly flushed or was that the poor lighting? Maker, she couldn’t be drunk already.          

“Not a thing,” Meredith denied at once, virtuously examining her fingernails. “If I were to possess any information regarding illicit activities and my Templars, I would of course be obligated to take action.”

“Of course,” he agreed sarcastically. The smuggling trade for lyrium was impossible to stamp out. It was a little thing that the Chantry allowed to be overlooked and so Meredith was allowed to overlook it. It was also the only misdemeanor he could possibly nag her about. Her record was spotless otherwise.

Her harsh exhalation jolted him out of his thoughts and he realized that she looked even more flushed than before. It suited her, making her seem like the beautiful woman she was rather than a steel golem. Her discomfort however, was apparent. “First Enchanter,” the Templar said slowly, carefully placing the bottle of wine down on his desk, “ _what_ is this drink?”

He frowned, examining it. There were no markings on the bottle and he realized that he could not recall seeing it before. How had it come to be in his office? His brow furrowed as he thought back. Hadn’t it been…

Orsino paled and stood up, hastening to the crate near the wall. “Maker!” he swore, feeling nauseous. He checked inside the crate once more, fingers fluttering over the array of objects within. “Your templars brought this in today- confiscated items they took from the mage quarters. The bottle must have been with it.”

“So there is a small chance that I’ve been poisoned,” the Knight Commander asserted crisply, gripping the arms of her chair. Her voice was slightly strained, breathless. “Get me a sheet of parchment; I must write an accusation. If I die, I want everyone to know that it’s your fault.”

“How is it _my_ fault?” Orsino demanded, practically hysterical as he returned to his desk. “You’re the one who barged in here like an alcoholic madwoman!” He picked up the bottle, casting a spell and waving one hand across its surface. An answering glow welled within the glass’s depths, the blue color causing him to breathe out in relief. Poison or anything of the lethal variety would have been green. “You won’t die. It’s not dangerous,” he informed her, sinking back into his chair. “It’s mostly clean wine with some small bit of orichalcum mixed in.”

“Orichalcum?” she shuddered, trying to frown and sit still. “That shouldn’t affect me; it’s hardly any different from lyrium.”

“The effects vary with the base it is added to,” the First Enchanter informed her, rummaging in one of his desk drawers. “I’ve never seen it with wine. Alcohol hardly has much alchemical usage…Tell me how you feel and I’ll give you a potion to help.”

He straightened a moment later having retrieved a small case of vials. He opened the leather cover, waiting for her response as he eyed the multicolored rows of glass. Healing spells were practically useless against ingested substances but luckily, he kept a wide variety of cures on hand. The least he could do was counter the symptoms.

When the silence stretched on, he looked up, shocked by the sight that met his eyes.

Meredith was curled in the chair, her legs pressed tightly together and a leather-gloved fist in her lap, her jaw clenched as she tried to stifle her rapid breaths. Her face was flushed, her free hand covering her eyes. It wasn’t that she lacked the ability to reply to his question, it was simply that she was too stubborn, too proud to admit the overpowering _arousal_ the wine had induced.

“Oh,” Orsino said, feeling like an idiot. He glanced nervously at the door then back at Meredith. “Ah. Well…this…this will probably pass once you get it out of your system, Knight Commander,” he offered awkwardly, his mouth suddenly very dry. “I don’t have any potions for…You should get to your room.”

She expelled a tremulous breath, a frustrated groan tearing from her throat. “I’m dizzy, Orsino,” she told him and something about the way she said his name made a shiver of heat run down his spine. “I can’t walk.”

“I’ll call a templar to carry you,” he resolved, crossing the office to the door.

“No!” she cried, a strangled note of panic in her voice. He froze. “Maker, no! What- and- and let them see their _commanding officer_ like this? The Hall will be full of knights returning to their quarters!” Her words were broken by a gasp, quickly bitten off. “I can’t be seen like this.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” he exclaimed, trying not to look at her, trying not to hear her. She was practically writhing in the chair.

“Seal the door with a spell,” she gasped out, fighting with the buckles of her armor. Steel clattered down to the floor, falling amidst papers and books. “Then face the windows and _don’t look at me, damn you!"_

He jerked his eyes away guiltily, feeling heat on the tips of his ears as he spelled the door. “I could wait outside,” he offered haltingly. “I can make sure no one comes in.”

“And why would the First Enchanter be waiting outside his own office?” Meredith snarled, openly gasping now. A dulcet moan escaped her, the sound sending heat through his groin. “ _No one_ will hear of this. Stay inside.”

If she didn’t quiet down, anyone passing through the hallway _outside_ would hear of it. The hour was late but even at this time of night, people were knocking on their two office doors. Orsino expelled a harsh breath and warded the door, adding a few extra phrases to his spell to muffle noise.      

“There,” he stated roughly, “it’s done.” He turned, keeping his gaze fixedly glued to the windows as he crossed the office once more to stand behind his desk. The night outside was black, devoid of the tantalizing warmth behind him.

Shutting out her voice was impossible.

It was maddening. Bad enough that he had fantasized about her before, bad enough that the tension between them had just kept increasing exponentially over the years- but he _knew_ she was touching herself, her gasps and moans made nearly desperate with hungry pleasure. He shifted his weight, painfully aware that he was hard beneath his robes and what was _his_ excuse? As First Enchanter, he could only stand there and try to handle the situation-

-while wanting to handle _her_.

“Damn you… _Orsino_ …” Meredith breathed out, the words sounding more like a caress than a condemnation. “This is your fault.”

He felt the force of her eyes on his back, suddenly and irrationally certain that she was staring at him. Perhaps it was the way she had said his name. Perhaps it was that she was nearing her peak and the thought of her climaxing in front of his desk with her armor scattered around her was too decadent to resist. He looked over his shoulder, devouring the sight of her.

The tie of her leather breeches was undone, her pale fingers buried deep out of sight as her legs trembled and her hips bucked. Her red tunic was rumpled from the straps of her armor, the buttons near her throat undone and revealing a tantalizing stretch of skin. Her chest heaved, breasts thrust outward and straining against the cloth. Her hood had slipped from her head along with her crown, her golden hair falling freely around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as she gasped and neared her release. Her forceful blue eyes, previously running over his tall frame, his hips, his ears, locked with his. She came.

Meredith’s body spasmed, her back arching away from the chair as her smoldering eyes bored into him. She cried out, ecstasy in the trembling note as she thrashed. After a moment, she went limp, melting back into the seat as she struggled to regain her breath. She bowed her head, her hair falling to obscure her face. Her fingers glistened as she withdrew them from between her legs.

“You were…staring…at _me_ ,” Orsino breathed, moving forward to grip the side of his desk- for balance, maybe, or to assure himself that this wasn’t a dream.

“Die,” Knight Commander Meredith said.

She slumped, her eyes half closing and her chest still struggling against the tunic. “Maker,” she swore, squirming, “I’m still…how long is this going to _last?_ ” The despair in her voice was heartrending.

“Several hours, give or take,” the mage answered with difficulty, his eyes tracking her movements. “It’s hard to say.”

Her eyes flitted downward and he cursed his word choice, his heart attempting to leap up into his throat. He found his thoughts straying into dangerous places. She said she couldn’t walk; did that mean she was too weak to viciously murder him if he touched her? Maker, she had masturbated to the sight of him! Didn’t that mean she _wanted_ him to?                

“Damn it all,” she groaned, placing her clean hand over her eyes. She swallowed another series of shudders. “This can‘t be happening. Did _you_ orchestrate this?”                

“What?” he asked incredulously. “You’re blaming me? _Again?_ Oh, there’s a plan every blood mage could agree with! Trick Knight Commander Meredith into drinking a magical aphrodisiac! _That_ will bring change to Thedas!”

“Shut up!” she bit out but her hand was between her legs once more, her thighs clenched tightly around her fingers. “Perhaps you’ve been using blood magic all along- making me lust after you all these years!”

His eyes widened. “You’ve been lusting after me? For years?”

It was her turn to blink in shock, realizing her own words too late. She stared at him helplessly. “I-” He was already at her side as she spoke and she looked at him sharply. “Don’t you _dare_ -” she began but then his hands were on her and she was surging out of the chair to clasp him to her. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his robes, her hot mouth locking over his and the lithe shape of her body pressing against him.

“This is bad,” Meredith hissed against his lips, seizing his hips and grinding into them.

‘Bad’ was not the adjective Orsino would have picked, especially when her tongue plunged into his mouth and began to strain against his. He groaned against her lips, his hands touching every part of her body he could reach through her tunic. She was supple and curvy and Maker, he’d be damned if it wasn’t a sin the way she hid this body in plate mail. He stroked urgently at her hips then at her softer rump, shuddering at the way she licked into his mouth.

Her calloused fingers seized a fistful of his hair, forcing his head to the side so that she could reach his ear. Her wet lips pressed kisses to his earlobe; his eyes rolled back in his head.

“ _Now_ ,” she demanded, catching his hand and pushing it down between her legs. “Now, Orsino. Please me now.”

When his long fingers slipped into her breeches however, the strength of her voice gave way to breathy gasps and whimpers. He caressed her, circling a finger around her clit before slipping it inside her. She was obscenely wet and the feel of her slick heat made him dizzy with lust. He stifled his ragged breaths in her shoulder, still stroking her, crooking his finger inside of her then adding a second.

Meredith writhed against him, working her hips so that he barely had to move at all. She rode his fingers, gasping into his ear and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Her hands grabbed at him, running down his arms then gripping his hips tight enough to bruise. Orsino burned but the press of her body was hotter still.

“More,” she urged him, her voice desperate and hushed like a prayer. She struggled to push her breeches out of the way, shoving them down her legs. “Orsino, bring me…” Her tongue swiped over the blade of his ear. He choked on his moan, an obstinate feeling overtaking him. She wanted more? Fine.

He pulled her leg up to his waist, seized a handful of her generous rump and drove his fingers forcefully into her.       

He began a frantic pace, invading her with hard, shallow thrusts. Meredith cried out, her inner walls fluttering around his relentless fingers. His grip on her rear secured her against him, preventing her quaking body from controlling his rhythm. Her fluids spilled down into his palm, coating his skin with their heady scent. He thumbed her clit. She stumbled and he turned them, pushing her against his desk. He didn’t let up.

“Ngh-! Nn-” Meredith clenched violently around his fingers, a spasm shaking her body as she came. He caught her jaw with his free hand, covering her mouth with his and swallowing her moans. Her core pulled at his fingers, trying to suck him in. She trembled and stilled, slumping against the desk and dazedly accepting his tongue. A low whine escaped her throat when he removed his fingers.

“Are you feeling better…Knight Commander?” Orsino panted, nuzzling at her neck.

“Knife-eared bastard,” she managed to say, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder. “Take off your fancy silk clothes before I rip them off.”

“I assume I have until you’ve recovered enough to stand up by yourself?” he retorted, earning a growl from the Templar.

“I’m going to have you draped over your own desk,” she told him through shuddering breaths, her intense blue eyes boring into him. “We’ll see who has any energy left after I ride you like a pony.”

Orsino almost blacked out from the sudden rush of blood to his groin. He had never torn off his robes so quickly as he did then.

It was a positively _incredible_ night in the First Enchanter’s office.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that codex entry on Orichalcum which stated that it could be used as an aphrodisiac if put in wine. *shrugs* How could I resist?


End file.
